Proposing to Preston (The Winslow Brothers, #2)(78)

In the late-afternoon, when there was a lull in the number of visitors, Abby found them on the back porch swing together rocking slowly, Elise tucked into the nook of Preston’s arm. She encouraged them to get away for a bit and take a walk.

“Datt is napping, Liebling. Why don’t you and Preston take a walk? You’ve been sitting on this porch all afternoon. Get some fresh air. Show your husband the farm.”

Abby had a quiet calm, and the tender way she mothered her two small children and shared not-quite-covert, intimate gazes with her husband, Ethan, made Elise long for what her sister had. She seemed satisfied and settled, yet still vital, stepping into the shoes of matriarch with a gentleness that Elise and her sisters needed.

Taking Preston’s hand, she led them away from the tidy farmhouse toward the barn, bypassing it for a rolling green field just beyond where two dozen black and white cows stood grazing. Resting their forearms on a white split-rail fence, Preston and Elise gazed out over the meadow together.

“They’re Holsteins,” she said.

“Is that a baby?” he asked, pointing to a smaller one.

She nodded. “About three months old.”

“They’re so calm.”

“They’re happy here.”

“I can see why. It’s very beautiful. Fresh air, green grass, plenty to eat, safe place to sleep…what more could a cow want?”

Indeed. There was something paradisiacal about her parent’s farm now that she had escaped it. The colors were vibrant, the lifestyle simple, the food honest and delicious, the people plain but happy…so much less complicated than her own life had become.

You’re making your life so much more difficult than it needs to be, Liebling.

She had, hadn’t she? Instead of appreciating Preston when she had him, she’d taken him for granted and almost lost him. Same with her family. She felt the sharp blessing of second chances and breathed deeply, grateful for her husband beside her, grateful for the warm and loving welcome she’d received from her family, and even for this place she’d worked so desperately to escape.

“I want to come back up here more often. I want our children to—” she gasped, wincing. “Oh, I didn’t…I mean…Oh.”

Her face burned and she clenched her eyes shut, wishing the ground would swallow her whole. They’d barely decided to stay together and she was already talking about kids? She cringed inside, wishing he’d say something…or, just be quiet. Yeah, that would be better. Maybe they could forget she’d said anything.

His voice was low and happy when he broke the silence between them. “I’d want our children to know where their mother grew up…to know their aunts and uncles, their grandfather and cousins. The swing on the porch, that baby Holstein. I’d want them to know all of it.” As Preston spoke, he stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and her whole body relaxed against him. His voice was soft in her ear, barely an audible rumble, but thick with emotion. “I wasn’t even sure if you wanted kids.”

“Of course I do.” She turned around in his arms, leaning her back against the fence, looking up at his face. “I want yours.”

His lips tilted up and his eyes—which looked back at her with such intense and deep love—softened as they searched hers. “You do?”

“Yes.” She shrugged, smiling back at him, wondering why he was so surprised.

“But…” His smile faded, though his grip around her waist tightened. “How will that work? Would we raise our kids in L.A.? With you off on movie shoots? Far from your family and mine? Spending holidays without my brothers or your sisters? That’s just not how I imagined having a family, Elise.”

She stiffened. “I never said that’s how I envisioned it, either.”

“Well then…how?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t… I mean, we’d have to talk about it. Figure it out.”

“When exactly?” he asked, dropping his arms and taking a step back from her. “When will we figure it out?”

She had a fleeting feeling of panic, but when she examined it, she realized it wasn’t because she felt pressured by Preston, but because she feared hurting him or losing him. She stepped toward him, leaning into their discussion, and said, “When we get home.”

“Home? And where exactly is that? Philly? New York? L.A.? Hell, we don’t even know where we’re going to live…or if we’re even going to live together.”

Refusing to let herself be drawn into an argument when they hadn’t even had a chance to discuss things logically, she placed her hand on his arm, curling her fingers gently around his sun-warmed skin. “When we get back to Philly, we’ll discuss it. All of it.”

He searched her face, then sighed loudly, a huffing noise of frustration and angst, and it flipped her heart to know that she was causing him any more pain.

“Preston...”

“What?” he snapped, his troubled green eyes vulnerable as they held hers.

“I am committed to this. To you. I promise you that we’ll figure it out.”

“How?” he asked again, his eyes increasingly bleak despite her reassurances.

And suddenly she had an idea. A good idea. An idea that was aborted long ago and saved for today.